


Just and Unjust

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Canon - Book, Canon Era, F/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:44:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She noticed near the other entrance of the room, a young man sitting down at the table scribbling onto a sheet of paper. He didn't even look up, seemingly distracted. She recognized him as the right person, the blond curls gave him away. She looked back at her sister who had followed, and although they were both decently sheltered from the elements, the younger still shivered. "Go sit by the fire, I'll give him the letter." Éponine urged.With that, the sound of a woman's voice, a sound that did not enter this backroom except when coming from Madame Houchelope, Enjolras snapped to attention. He looked at the two young girls, clearly rather surprised. They were both dressed in rags, both shivering, pale, thin, neither of them dressed for the weather. "Excuse me, this is the wrong entrance. You need to go around front." He said as he folded the paper he'd been writing on and stood up."I can do that if you'll follow me there," Éponine responded, her arms wrapping around her waist for the added warmth as she approached him. "I have a letter for you."





	Just and Unjust

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading almost every Enjonine fanfic I can get my hands on and decided to make my own! I hope this adds something new to the wealth of works there is for these two and that you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it! Please, leave comments, bookmark, etc. etc. it really motivates me to continue!

January was a terrible month. It's cold and dead with none of the high spirits left from December. It was Éponine's least favorite month, followed by February, for the exact same reason. It was during this time of the year that she feared most for her life. Walking barefoot in the snow was nothing new to her, but it stung her feet and caused her body to be wracked with incessant shivering. Her feet stung, her ears itched, her nose ran, her eyes watered. _What a miserable time of the year._

She walked beside her sister, who was two years younger than her and just as emaciated. Azelma wore their mother's boots, shoes that Éponine rather hated to even be near. They squeaked with every step and were too large for both of them. She actually preferred to go barefoot than to walk with that insistent sound trailing behind her everywhere. Of course, since Azelma was with her and wearing them, that _ghee ghee ghee_ sound they made annoyed her anyway. Still, she was glad that her sister wasn't as cold as she was, and even more glad that she wasn't the one wearing them. 

As they walked through the streets of Paris, quiet at this hour and in this weather, the cold breeze combed through her matted hair and licked her neck, breathing down puffs of snow with it. She tightened her thin shawl, a sorry attempt of warmth, around her shoulders.

"Azelma, why don't you go on home? There's just one letter left, I can take care of it." She offered, glancing at her sister out of the corner of her eye.   
"I'm fine to join." She responded.

With that, silence enveloped the two downtrodden girls once more.

* * *

"Grantaire, if you intend to continue interrupting this meeting with your drunken, pitiful antics and pessimism I ask you again, leave. This is not a place for such things. We're here to make a difference, to plan for a better tomorrow, to converse possibilities and plans, not whatever it is you're here for." He said, his hands leaning over the table as he glared at the stout drunk before him.

"I'm here to do the same, mon ami! I just have different opinions, you're too bold and I'm pointing it out. The possibilities and plans I'm trying desperately to convey are that this is hopeless and we would all be far better off and happier for it if we imbibed ourselves with more wine!" Grantaire responded, a grin crossing his features. "You pick on me more than anyone, look at dear Bosuett! Bossuet, are you sufficiently drunk?"

"Yes but it's no fault of my own. I only had a single glass, lady luck has smited me again!" He laughed as he turned his attention to their blond leader. "Ignore our friend, Enjolras. He means to antagonize you, please, return to what you were saying . . . What was it?"

Enjolras looked incredibly at the two of them. He was furious with Grantaire, and as he had pointed out, not at any of the others. Everyone else was there for the right reasons and if they wished to drink he was not going to stop them. What mattered to him was that they still focused on what really mattered. "We were discussing the Cholera outbreak and how best to approach the situation."

"As if it's even time to! You haven't won your revolution yet, it's too soon to look towards matters like that!" Grantaire chimed.

"It may appear too soon to you, Grantaire, but planning for the future is important. The revolution is the most pressing matter, but Combeferre and Joly are right to bring it up as a concern. The July revolution failed us because they planned their revolt and not their aftermath. If we are to be successful in more ways than simply disrupting the government for a time, we need to have planned out the system we plan to replace it with." Said Feuilly. 

"Exactly, and while the Cholera epidemic might not seem something for the government to handle it most certainly is. People are dying, primarily the poor we're fighting for, and it's essential that we make a plan of how best to manage this and prevent it from continuing to spread." Combeferre chimed in.

"Not only that but I've met several who believe it's our government poisoning the waters in the poorer regions of the city. It's not an impossible theory, evil as it sounds. If we're to earn trust and good faith we need to focus our attention on matters most pressing such as this, things that are directly impacting the community." Joly added.

"I agree," Enjolras stated, satisfied that the conversation was beginning to return to what was important. "It's something I'll bring up at the next meeting with the other republican societies. It would be helpful, since the two of you are most knowledgable in medicine, to have some written words by the both of you to present them with, along with suggested courses of action that can be taken."

The two medical students nodded, and with that, their discourse resumed with only a few more interruptions. The night began to fall and as it did, the Amis began to scatter their separate ways.

* * *

Éponine and Azelma had been standing outside the Café Musain for some time, hiding underneath the stairs in the back of the building to shelter themselves from the snow. She watched as students began to leave, keeping an eye out for the one her father had specifically written to. After a number of young men had left, and time began to pass without another leaving, she began to worry that he wasn't there after all. She looked toward her sister who was shaking just as much as she was and began to worry. She could see that her sister was getting tired by the way she slouched and rocked herself. Falling asleep in weather such as this brings on death.

"Okay, we've waited long enough, I'm going inside." Éponine decided as she crawled out from underneath the stairs. "Come on, you're joining me. It's too cold out here."

"But Papa said we aren't supposed to know this entrance." Azelma responded, looking up though not moving.

"Either that or go home without delivering it. He might not even be there, let's just go and see." With that, Éponine took off up the stairs and looked back to see that Azelma was following her.

There was still a light on in the backroom, she noticed. She pulled open the door without so much as a knock and stepped in, the warmth from the fireplace making her want to dance. She noticed near the other entrance of the room, a young man sitting down at the table scribbling onto a sheet of paper. He didn't even look up, seemingly distracted. She recognized him as the right person, the blond curls gave him away. She looked back at her sister who had followed, and although they were both decently sheltered from the elements, the younger still shivered. "Go sit by the fire, I'll give him the letter." Éponine urged.

With that, the sound of a woman's voice, a sound that did not enter this backroom except when coming from Madame Houchelope, Enjolras snapped to attention. He looked at the two young girls, clearly rather surprised. They were both dressed in rags, both shivering, pale, thin, neither of them dressed for the weather. "Excuse me, this is the wrong entrance. You need to go around front." He said as he folded the paper he'd been writing on and stood up.

"I can do that if you'll follow me there," Éponine responded, her arms wrapping around her waist for the added warmth as she approached him. "I have a letter for you."

His eyebrows knitted in surprise. At this hour? And delivering it to him there? He found it hard to believe she was simply the delivery girl as he doubted mailmen knew of his presence in the Café's, supposedly secret, backroom. "No, there's no need." He responded. He wanted to ask how she knew to find him there but thought it would only raise suspicion. He watched as she reached into a tied off bundle of rags and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. He took it, eying it suspiciously. 

_Adressed to the just student._

"We were waiting outside for you so you didn't get spooked but then you didn't leave with the others. Started to think you weren't even here and since my sister was looking pale I thought I'd just come up and see. I won't tell anyone. I knew either way, but I won't tell anyone, swear. She won't either. We've just been outside for several hours and it began to snow, terrible stuff, miserable. Didn't want to fall asleep, and it's rather warm in here, I thought. I saw the red light in the window from the fireplace, so I thought, well, even if he isn't there we can warm up then go home. But you are! I hope you don't mind it."

Taken aback as he was, he nodded. "It's fine." He responded. He glanced at her once more before he unfolded the note, the smell of tobacco reaching his nose as he looked over the writing.

_To the young, ambitious and just student_

_I am humbled by the work you do and the ambissons you stride toward for a better future. I take the liberty to address you this letter to pray that you would accord me and my family the favor of your simpathies, and being a just man, that you might take it upon yourself to right the unjust calamity my family lives in._

_This is an unfortunate family of seven, the youngest is only seven and the second youngest only ten. My two youngest have developed a fever and in seeing this, a gendarme had ripped them from my home and said that if we want them back, we must prove to support them. Just man, should a poor family, poor because of the burden society has placed upon us, be subject to losing their children? I think you will say no, and in this, we are in agreeance. Call upon your christian sentimant, and cast a look of compassion upon this wrongfully treated, loving household. I have no doubt that you are honorable and that I have not written this letter in vein. Please, part to my daughter which has brought you this letter what you can spare, your generosity will not be forgotten in the coming days._

_Viva la France,_

_Monsieur Dromgoole_

After reading the note, he looked back up. The girl who handed it to him stood before him with her hands now clasped behind her back, looking at him expectedly. He glanced across the room and saw near the fire a girl of close resemblance, warming her palms. "You are Mademoiselle Dromgoole?" Enjolras asked, looking back at the elder. "Your father wrote this?"

"Oui, he sent me off with it to you."  
"I see. How were you made aware of me?"  
"My father."  
"And him?"  
"My brother."  
"The one who is sick?"  
"No, the one who is not."

  
"And how was he made aware of me?" Enjolras asked again.

"I'm not sure. I can ask him and tell you if you like." She offered, which he knew would come at a price.

Still, this location he would prefer to remain secret for their meeting place so he nodded. "I would be appreciative of that. For now, pray tell, how much do you need for your brothers that are ill?" 

She seemed to think for a moment, unsure. He wondered if they weren't aware of what the gendarme expected but in reality, she was sizing up the situation for how much he would be willing to depart with. She had learned well from her father that when bargaining for money, it's important of course not to ask for too little but that too much can put someone off.

"Thirty francs." She said at last. "I think that should do. We would be able to pay the rent we owe and get some food, and still have some leftover for needs that will surely come upon us. I think that will satisfy my brother's captors."

He nodded and pulled a coin purse out of the inner pocket of his scarlet coat and counted out thirty francs. With that done he held out the amount to the young girl. She smiled widely at him and curtsied, it was a sloppy, wrongly done curtsy, he noticed. He said nothing.

"Oh thank you monsieur, you're a real great lad! I'll be sure to talk with my brother. Thank you!" She exclaimed, bouncing as she went to her sister near the fireplace and then left together. He watched them leave and walked to the window, seeing them disappear into the blizzard. 


End file.
